Stubborn
by novella814
Summary: As those who knew him could attest, Edward Elric was oftentimes too stubborn for his own good.


**Stubborn**

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and all associated plots, settings, characters, etc. belong to Arakawa Hiromu-sensei. I make no profit off this work of fiction, nor do I own Ed, Winry, Al, or others. I'm sure my hand would have fallen off already if I drew that much.

* * *

If there was one thing that Edward Elric could attest to being—and anyone who know him could, and would, confirm it, too—it was that he was stubborn. Even as a child, he had adamantly insisted on getting his own way, firmly refusing to budge from his chosen standpoint. This trait had been carried on as he aged, causing him to staunchly refuse to accept the continuous warnings of his sensei and other—long dead—scholars of alchemy. His stubbornness allowed Edward to refuse to give up, even after the disastrous happenings that brought him to his current situation.

At the troublesome age of eleven, Edward was still—as his friend Winry so aptly put it—impossibly pigheaded. Also according to her, that same pigheadedness did nothing but get him into trouble.

'_THONK!'_

"Yeowch!" Ed yelped, massaging the spot on his head where Winry's 'Wrench of Doom', as he had dubbed it, had made contact moments before. "That hurt!" he protested, pouting childishly at his friend, though the effect was slightly ruined by the fact that he was collapsed, panting, in a conveniently situated wheelchair.

"What have I told you about pushing yourself too far, Ed?" Winry demanded, towering over the shorter boy.

"I _have_ to," Ed insisted vehemently. "The sooner I complete the automail rehabilitation, the sooner I can go visit that Mustang guy, become a state alchemist, and give Al back his body!" He purposely avoided mentioning the searing pain that his newly installed automail was sending shooting through his body, as well as his aching, shivering muscles, weary from hours of overexertion.

"Ed," Winry said, her voice softening slightly, "it won't do Al any good if you permanently damage the human parts of your body in your haste to master the automail ones."

"I know that," Ed admitted, "but I have to keep pushing myself. I hate being helpless, unable to do anything for Al. I can't even perform a simple transmutation, since I still can't hold a piece of chalk with my automail hand and my left's handwriting can't even be considered legible."

"Poor Ed," Winry laughed. "I guess you'll still have to be dependant on us a year or two more." She wouldn't encourage him by admitting that his progress was amazing, especially for someone his age.

"No, I won't be!" Ed lashed out, once again furiously stubborn as his golden eyes flashed in determination. "I made a promise to myself, and even more importantly, to Al: _I will complete the rehabilitation in _one_ year!_"

Winry just shook her head in exasperation. There was just no point in telling him that it was simply impossible. Stubborn boy. She glared at him.

Ed glared back.

The two ensued in a glaring contest for several more seconds, until the competition was voided by the arrival of a big, clanking suit of armor, for whom both contestants broke their gazes to greet.

"Brother!" Al exclaimed in a voice unusually high for the deceptively large body he inhabited. Alphonse looked down at his brother in annoyance, joints clattering against each other with every movement. "You've been trying too hard again, haven't you? I keep telling you not to overwork yourself, and Winry and Granny Pinako agree. If you won't listen to me, at least listen to them!"

Ed glared rebelliously at his younger brother. "I won't get anywhere without hard work. Did you forget Sensei's lessons so quickly?"

"Just because she said, 'To train the mind, you must train the body,' then worked us to the bone, doesn't mean she wanted you to kill yourself!" Al protested.

"Sure _felt_ like that," Ed muttered under his breath. Louder, he continued, "It's my fault you're trapped in this body. I have to work hard in order to get you back your old one."

Winry shot Al a glance that seemed to say 'See, what did I tell you?' "Please talk some sense into him, Al," she begged. "You're the only one that that idiot would even _consider_ listening to."

With a doubtful sigh Al tried, "All the same, Brother, it won't help me at all if you die of exhaustion in the process. _Please_ at least make an _effort_ to take it easier. No one will look down on you if you finish the rehabilitation in the normal amount of time. Even Granny Pinako says it's impossible to do in a year."

'_I will!_' Ed thought to himself, but was wise enough not to voice the notion.

"Told you so!" Winry exclaimed. "You really should listen to me once in awhile, Ed!"

"Hmph!" Ed was silent for a moment, gathering a retort together. "I'll show you and Al both, and master my automail at the end of one year! Then I'll go to Central and show that Mustang guy, too, by passing the state alchemist exam!" He surged from the wheelchair and attempted to stumble out of the room on a leg that seemed to have forgotten how to work properly.

"Ack!" His left automail leg gave out beneath him, wrecking his balance.

"Brother!" Al exclaimed frightfully, rushing to catch his brother before the older (but shorter) boy could topple to the ground.

* * *

Time passed slowly as Ed worked harder and harder, rarely letting up, in an effort to master his automail. Al almost came to believe that he had the better deal, being stuck in an unfeeling suit of armor, as he watched his brother struggle to relearn even the simplest things, such as walking with an artificial leg (he still could barely totter across the room, let alone full out run) and attempting to write with his unwieldy metal fingers was nigh on impossible.

And perhaps, Al considered, it was better to experience nothing at all than to be forced to bear the pain that Al was sure Ed felt as he whimpered in bed at night when he thought that no one was listening.

Al had at least gotten taller, too, which was definitely a plus. Ed still remained as short as ever, which was a subject Winry loved to comment on. Naturally, this resulted in exaggerated accusations from Ed, along with shouts of, "I'm not short!" followed by multiple wrenchings by Winry. Just another normal day in the Rockbell household, of course.

* * *

A call came in late July from Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, who had called to ask if Ed was still intending on participating in the state alchemist exams to be held several months from then on October 1, 1911.

For Ed, this call signaled the start of a period of panic. Still, he had only just managed to achieve a stumbling run, and was able to write only in a sloppy, childish scrawl (his left hand had had markedly better results). He had not even performed a simple transmutation yet, let alone had a good spar with Al.

Ed had shocked Winry and Granny Pinako into silence. All the while they had insisted that a year long recovery was impossible and kept harping on him that he would do himself permanent damage if he didn't back down.

Still, he had risen above their objections and made steady progress, completing the rehabilitation in record time. But all the same, Ed worried that it wouldn't be enough. He couldn't help but wonder if he would still be able to perform alchemy. He hadn't tried since…that night. If what he saw in that _thing_ was right, he wouldn't even need a transmutation circle, just like Sensei! Just clap your hands together to circulate the energy… But he was afraid to try. What if he couldn't? What if he pressed his hands to the circle—or clapped them together—and nothing happened? He would hate to let down that Mustang guy.

Ed put even more than before—if that was possible—in to those last few months before the exam. As he had expected, he no longer needed to draw a circle in order to perform a transmutation. To his disappointment, though, Al was still confined to the traditional manner. In fact, his younger brother appeared to have lost all memory of the Truth…_thing_.

Ed arrived in East City with Al in tow, garbed in his soon to be trademark black outfit, over which he wore a red coat, a large black flamel inscribed upon the back, partially covered by his swinging blonde braid. Lieutenant Colonel—no, _Colonel_—Mustang was waiting for them with his loyal Lieutenant Hawkeye on the steps of the eastern military headquarters, waiting to escort the pair to Central.

Ed would take the exam and become a state alchemist, despite its significance of being a 'dog of the military', and prove to everyone that he could overcome the seemingly endless obstacles that life had decided to throw in his path.

And most importantly…he would get Al's body back!

* * *

**Random fact related to the story title:** '_Hagane_', which is Japanese for 'Fullmetal' or 'Steel', also can mean 'stubborn'. (Probably a disguised joke of Arakawa-sensei's.) 


End file.
